


i ran.

by afterism



Category: Doctor Who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-30
Updated: 2007-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterism/pseuds/afterism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first two days after the Master's death, the Doctor didn't let himself think. (set post episode 3.13)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i ran.

**Author's Note:**

> (posted here jan 2012, as part of an 'archiving old fic i'm still fond of!' drive. :D) A raw, unfinished character study.

For the first two days after the Master's death, the Doctor didn't let himself think. Dived from planet to planet, galaxy to galaxy, millennium to millennium without any clear idea of where he was heading - fiddled with the console endlessly, checking everything was there, as it should be, _fixed_ , but never gave any coordinates or destinations other than the barest minimum (he needed to get away, from earth or the master or the memories, from this whole universe that punished him with the constant loneliness, like a beat in his head) and ran outside every time with no thought or worry. He faced whatever he found with a grin and his screwdriver, didn't think of the advantages of laser and smiled, just a little, when a rogue Time Agent got in a punch and sent him sprawling to the floor, cheek smarting.

He asked for excitement and colours and people, finding bustling markets and bloody wars spread across whole planets and aliens with more heads than sense. The TARDIS suddenly felt horribly, horribly big and so he started avoiding her, ignored the hurt hum coming from the walls as he dashed in to find another shock of distraction and ran back out through the doors, hoping the _'I'm so sorry'_ could be left unsaid and still understood. Once, just once (maybe out of spite, maybe out of love) the TARDIS took him to a quiet, peaceful planet where the sky was the colour of sunkissed-corn fields and the ground stretched out for miles around, blue sand in once direction, the rolling green waves in the other. He'd taken Rose there, once, and they had spent the afternoon making sand castles and paddling. 

He made sure the next planet they landed on was throbbing with anger and colour and people. He threw himself headlong into a chase after a tall insectoid-looking man that had just snatched a woman's shopping, and didn't let himself think.

The third day came with bruises and dirt, and although there was no consistent night and day to prove it, the Doctor knew it was time to slow down. He didn't. He rubbed the bruises until they burned and changed his clothes and got off at the first galaxy with a bar. Found a girl (or maybe a boy) and an alleyway and very nearly fucked her - but instead ended up with his forehead pressed against her shoulder, clinging to her lapels (she's been wearing a blazer of sorts, he'd noticed that much) while she patted him awkwardly on the back and eyed the end of the alleyway longingly. 

He breathed with short, ragged gasps and didn't cry, stepped back after a minute with his hands up in the air like surrender and she offered him an confused half-smile before walking away with one hand on the wall for stability, heading back inside as the sun dipped below the hidden horizon and the alley became darker, swallowing the Doctor into the shadows.

 

The universe waited, but never acknowledged the loss.


End file.
